


Wedge's Balcony

by BenW



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Original Trilogy, rogue squadron - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-19 14:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenW/pseuds/BenW
Summary: A short and sweet fic answering the Rogue Podron prompt from Episode 11-1: Describe your ideal balcony scene. I combined that with the desire of the hosts for Wedge to have a vacation of some sort as expressed in the episode itself. If you listen to the pod, you'll recognize some familiar personalities as side characters, as well.





	Wedge's Balcony

The breeze was nice, it smelled of ocean salt and distant seashore. Wedge appreciated any ambient smells that were something other than the stink of fuel or the press of a lot of pilots jammed into a tight space. The proprietor had assured him that this was the best view he would get anywhere in this hemisphere. Wedge had taken for granted that it was an exaggeration, but he had to admit that if it was then there had to be some spectacular views elsewhere.

In front of him, beyond the railing of his suite's little balcony, was a single strip of pavement running east-west across the edge of his rented cottage property. On the other side of that road was nothing but dune after white, sandy dune of beach, and another kilometer or so beyond that was the beach and the crystal-clear blue ocean that Iella had recommended he visit. She had found this place, a secluded cove with rental properties available for offworlders, on one of her missions. This little journey had been her idea, she wanted him to relax somewhere away from the crowds and holocams, to take some time for himself. If he refused, she had jokes about getting him a therapist. At least, he thought she was joking.

So he was here. A small cove on a world with a name he could barely pronounce, where no one knew him, where there was no press of a crowd or rumble of vehicles, just him, the beach, the ocean and the sun high above. He had a week, a whole week to himself. A week might be too long, he might get bored at some point without some sort of distraction, but if things came to that he would deal with it when it happened. Right now, all he wanted to do was relax.

So Wedge Antilles, General of the New Republic, took his time to apply some sunblock lotion, set out a folding chair, mixed himself a drink with things both sweet and strong and plenty of ice, and set about enjoying the peace for however long it would last. He lay back in the chair, a sun visor over his face, dressed only in nondescript touristy clothes, a loose white shirt and red shorts meant for swimming in, and closed his eyes. The sounds of the wind, the brush of sand against his bare arms and legs, it was so quiet and natural and peaceful.

It occurred to him that this was the first time in a very long time he had gotten to enjoy the fruits of his labors like this. A life spent on the run, fighting, flying, leading, sweating out missions in a cockpit or on the bridge of a capital ship, there had never been much of a chance to relax. Even when he had been afforded leave, it had either been interrupted or was overshadowed with the promise of more fighting, more missions, more war, once he returned to active duty. Now, after Adumar, after Thrawn and Zinj and Daala and everything and everyone who had thrown themselves back into the war after the Emperor's death, the horizon was finally clear. There was nothing he could see but clear blue sky ahead.

Yes, the sun, the sand and the breeze were the only things he wanted to worry about right then. He might kick on his shoes and go down to the water later. He did not want to risk his drink in the sand quite yet.

That was when he heard the noise. A sort of weird slapping sound, it had the rhythm of footsteps. Someone running in their bare feet, maybe? He knew he was not the only tourist in the cove, there had been a few other domiciles and huts with wavecutters or speeders parked by them on his approach. It was probably someone's kid running down to the boat launch at the mouth of the cove, or maybe just running to get to the water. At least they weren't screaming like kids seemed to always do when they were running.

“Hey, mister?”

It took Wedge a long moment to realize that the voice was actually speaking to him. He took his visor off, sat up and looked down. A lady, Pantoran by the look of her blue skin, was standing on the road below him, her hand shading her eyes against the sun. She was short enough that she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. She had brown hair down around her shoulders and a loose brown robe around her body that looked almost like a sarong. The slapping sound he had heard was apparently due to the sandals she was wearing; several straps were broken on them so they slapped against her feet with each step she took.

“Yes?” He answered.

“Did you see a droid roll by here?” She asked him, “Small, round, with a black body?”

Wedge shook his head. “No, haven't seen it. Sorry.”

The woman sighed and growled something under her breath, then said “Thank you,” up to him and started walking along the road to the east, his right. As she went, feet slapping the whole ways, as Wedge was putting his visor back on, she was calling out, “Beebee, where are you?”

Wedge sighed. It was an interruption, yes, and that was annoying, but it not too bad of one at least. He hoped she found her droid, it probably wouldn't be too hard to find a black droid on a white sand beach. It wasn't that he didn't want to help her, it was just that, well, he really didn't want to help her. This was his time to spend relaxing, not chasing after stray droids.

The sounds of the woman’s running and shouting had faded off into the distance, and Wedge had returned to his drink and the sun, when he heard more noises. This sounded more distinctly like someone running, but not just one person, there was also a clawing, scraping noise too. That made Wedge sit up and take his visor off without needing to be prompted.

A man, human, about average height with pale skin that was turned pink by the sun, was running along the road. Unlike the woman who had passed by before, he appeared to be running for the sake of running, dressed in bright fluorescent yellow athletic gear as if he were afraid a stray landspeeder might hit him. The other set of running steps that Wedge had heard was apparently caused by a blur of white and yellow fur that was running alongside the man, some sore of quadruped creature he could not identify. The creature was fast, faster than the man, but kept pace by running small circles ahead of or behind him so they were never too far apart.

The man looked up at Wedge and waved as he went by, but he did not stop or say anything. Wedge waved back, watched as the man and his animal, or pet, or maybe just a friend, kept going off to the east, and then lay back down. He took a long, slow drink from his glass, relishing the cool weight of it in his hand, and set it back on the arm of his chair with a satisfied sigh.

Of course, that was when the next voice came along. He did not even hear any footsteps, just a voice calling out: “Hello up there!”

Wedge sighed, set the visor aside once again, and looked down. An unlikely pair of beings were standing on the road below. First was a skinny Ithorian in what looked like a white lab coat thrown over a pair of black swimming trunks. He also appeared to be wearing either goggles or corrective lenses over his eyes, an odd look for his species. Second was a mauve-skinned somewhat round Mon Calamari woman dressed in a pale cream bathing dress that was long enough to sit between her knees and feet but left her arms exposed, showing off some tattoo work on her forearms and shoulders. The Ithorian was holding what looked like a net on a pole over their shoulder, and the Mon Cala had a bulky holocamera on a lanyard around her neck.

“Sorry to interrupt,” The woman said, she had been the one to get his attention. “We don't mean to disturb you. But we had to ask you a question really quick.”

Wedge sighed again, picking his drink up in his hand so they knew for sure that he was in the middle of some intense relaxation, and said, “Okay?”

“Two of our friends just came by here, right? A human man and a Pantoran woman?”

“Yep,” was all Wedge said.

The woman either did not notice his frustration or she just forged right ahead in spite of it. “Did you see which way they went?”

Wedge pointed to the east, arm outstretched, without saying anything.

“Thank you!” The woman said with a wave and a pleasant smile. She set off in that direction, and the Ithorian followed, but not before giving a wave of their own in thanks.

Wedge watched them go, then turned and looked both to the west and the east to make sure that no one else was coming along from either direction. The road looked clear. He waited another long moment to make sure. Then, with the silence restored and the road and horizon clear of any more strangers, he lay back down, put the visor over his face, and took another long drink.

It didn't matter, really. Why was he getting upset? It was a thirty second interruption. He had a whole week here, thirty seconds was nothing. Certainly not work getting so riled up about. He hadn't even finished his drink yet, it wasn't like the sun was going anywhere, and the breeze now was the same as it had been when he had first come out onto the balcony. Being angry at other people taking a vacation was not conducive to his relaxing, not in any way.

So when he heard the sounds of distressed beeping, an animal barking, and several people shouting, naturally Wedge did the most logical, rational thing for him to do to continue relaxing. He sat up, nearly spilled his drink and only just managed to catch it from falling from the arm of his chair, and tore the sun visor from his head so quickly that he nearly blinded himself with one of its sharper corners.

That four-legged animal, the one who had been chasing the man before, was running back the other way now. The man was nowhere in sight, but the animal was not alone; it was pursuing a a small black droid, shaped like a sphere, that rolled along the ground and beeped in what sounded like terrified alarm as it tried to keep ahead of the animal's snapping mouth. The animal was barking each time it snapped and missed, which was every other step or so, meaning as the two sped down the road heading west, they were beeping and barking and raising hell like he had not heard before outside of a war zone.

Shortly after they were out of sight, but not out of audible range because their beeping and their barking was still very much within earshot, two more figures appeared on the east road and heading west: the Pantoran and the human man. They were both running to try and catch up to their errant charges.

“Oh this is not good for my knee!” The woman shouted as she ran, “Beebee, stop! Slow down at least!”

“El’eeot!” The man was shouting, “That's not a toy! Don't try to bite it, you'll hurt your teeth!”

They both dashed by and disappeared. Wedge watched them go. He took a long, deep breath, and stood up from his chair. As he did, the other two, the Ithorian and the Mon Cala woman, trotted into view, both of them hurrying, but neither running with quite the same speed as the first two. As they went, the woman turned up to look at Wedge and gave him a quick “Sorry!”. The Ithorian said “Sorry!” as well as it ran by, in a much deeper and more resonant voice of course.

Wedge did not answer either of them. He just turned around and went back inside, taking his drink with him. Relaxation would have to wait until the next time it was quiet outside.


End file.
